Cabin Pressure: Airport Security
by nero749
Summary: When the crew finally lands at a descent size airport, Douglas and martin soon find themselves in an airport bar, trying to pick up two stewardesses... And Martin ends messing it up in ways not yet imagined...
1. Chapter 1

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," a cheery voice echoed through the cabin. "We are now approaching Heathrow Airport…"

"Very good Arthur," Douglas interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Really?" Arthur's face lit up, though it was hard to see the difference, due to his always

exceptionally cheery disposition.

"Yes," Douglas said, putting just a little too much emphasize on the word. "Except that you're supposed to be telling them we're about to land…"

"I was getting to that bit!" Arthur brightly interrupted Douglas.

"On Gatwick Airport."

Arthur's face fell. "Oh."

"That's quite enough of that, thank you very much," Martin said, grabbing the intercom from Arthur's hand. "I am still the captain and I make the announcements."

"Certainly, captain ," Douglas said, putting more disdain in that single word than most people are capable of picking up on. "Go right ahead." Douglas looked through the open cabin door - Arthur was still keeping it open, the familiar smile had returned to his face by now. "Your audience is all ears," Douglas added, looking into the empty cabin.

Martin seemed to either ignore the clear sarcasm in Douglas' voice - which he'd gotten remarkably good at, what with having to deal with that voice for two years now, or he had truly stopped noticing it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is captain Crieff speaking. We are now…"

"Yes, we know!" Came Carolyn's voice from the cabin. She was moving swiftly down the isle, with a look on her face that made Arthur promptly let go of the cabin door. Before it'd had the time to shut properly, Carolyn had already reached it and violently swung it open again.

"Could we," she started saying, while putting one hand on Martin's chair and the other one on Douglas' chair. "Could we, for once, pretend to be a proper company." Both Martin and Douglas noted her refusal to use the word airline. Arthur got distracted by something he saw in the cabin and stopped paying attention.

"We are, for the very first time, landing at Gatwick Airport, most likely the biggest airport we've landed on, yet," Carolyn continued, "and I'd like to give the impression that we are in fact aviation professionals."

"Rather than a travelling group of trapeze artists," Douglas added, Carolyn glared at him. Martin tried as well, but ended up simply sighing. Arthur failed to hear any of it.

"So when we leave this plane and enter the airport," Carolyn continued, ignoring Douglas - or trying to as she always did, "I would like to see you all be on your best behaviour...," she gave them both a look that showed she wanted them to listen. She tried to give Arthur the same look, but he seemed off in his own world and Carolyn let him. She took a deep breath. "I would very much prefer to avoid another incident like in Greece."

"You mean when Martin got arrested as a terrorist," Douglas said dryly.

"I did not!" Martin squealed.

"And we had to go get him."

"I did not get arrested!" Martin exclaimed. "I never even left the airport!"

"Because they wouldn't let you," Douglas added dryly.

"Well, yes… erm. It was all sorted out in the end."

"Yes, after a strip-search, was it?" Douglas asked, fully aware of the answer.

Martin flushed and then glared at Douglas. Carolyn sat down in the jump seat. Arthur wondered if the chairs had always been this particular shade of blue.

"It wasn't…" Martin started to say, but stopped, remembering the incident now - every second of it. He cleared his throat. "It was standard procedure."

"Yes," Douglas said, "and why was it that they thought you were a terrorist?"

Martin's face became a painful looking red now. "I still think it was…"

"You wouldn't let them check your bag," Douglas interrupted.

"I am an airline captain!" Martin yelped. "I do not…"

"Alright," Carolyn said and stood up. "If you two could reminisce some other time, I do believe we were supposed to be landing now," she said, leaving the cabin and pushing Arthur out in front of her.

"This plane could land itself, baby," Douglas called out after her, in his mocking voice. Martin was sure this was another reference he didn't get, so he laughed just in case.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gatwick Airport," Douglas said, his deep voice booming through the open space, "now we know we've made it! The glamour! The Tax Free! The escalators!" He mocked. It was clearly aimed at Carolyn, but she - very skilfully - ignored him. Unlike many of the people passing them, who all turned, looking annoyed.

"Ooh, there's a McDonald's here!" Arthur said. His voice filled with a enthustiasm that unfortunately, was not meant to be sarcastic at all.

"Yes," Douglas said. "Very good, but I do prefer somewhere with a liquor licence."

"You don't even drink," Martin grumbled under his breath. He didn't understand how Douglas could have this image of being an irresistible, party -animal-like commercial pilot, and he didn't. And another thing, why did everyone always think Douglas was the captain?

"Admittedly I prefer Happy Hour over Happy Meal as well," Carolyn said.

Arthur put on a voice that would've been annoying in a 9 year old, let alone a 29 year old. "But mum," he began.

Carolyn silenced him with a gesture of her hand. "Unfortunately, I think I'll be babysitting Arthur," she said with genuine regret in her voice - most likely caused by the thought of half a dozen apple martinis she wouldn't be having. "It seems best," she glanced at her son. "Let's not have a reoccurrence of the Nice incident."

"You mean when they had to broadcast your name," Martin said, taking a bit too much pleasure in the fact that for now, he was not the one being made fun of. "Because Arthur had lost you," Douglas added. "And they thought he was from special housing?"

"Indeed," Carolyn said as she nudged Arthur forward. "We'll meet up after security," she called over her shoulder, before disappearing into a mass of people dressed in colourful summer clothes and carrying handbags obviously too big to be called handbags.

"Ah, it's just us pilots then," Douglas said, letting his hand fall on Martin's shoulder, in a gesture Martin was sure was meant to mock him in some way.

They entered what seemed to be meant as a bar, except there were only two walls, leaving everyone rather exposed to the looks of the passing crowd. The colours all seemed a bit off as well and Martin noted, that this was precisely the kind of bar he thought pilots would never go into.

"Isn't there a pilot's lounge?" Martin asked.

"Not one where we're aloud," Douglas said.

There were certain disadvantages of working for a four man company. Mainly that no one would recognise it as a company and they were quite often treated as passengers. Which was hard for Douglas, because he had once been a proper airline captain and had fond memories of the fringe benefits that came with that. Oddly enough, it was even harder for Martin, despite him never having been a proper captain - at all.

Douglas ordered the drinks and then went on to stare into space, or so it seemed to Martin.

"Hmm," was the only noise Douglas had made in a few minutes time.

Despite fearing the mocking that would certainly follow, Martin braved his chances and asked, "What?"

"I love the red outfits," Douglas said.

"Er…" Martin looked around the bar, until his eyes fell on the lovely red outfits, on the lovely stewardesses. Two lovely stewardesses, in two lovely red outfits.

"Tell me Martin," Douglas said, "have you met someone at last?"

"What? Oh. No," he flushed, somehow feeling this was something embarrassing, something embarrassing like being the captain of an airline without being paid. "It's just that…"

Douglas interrupted him. "Then we are both single, available pilots," he said. "And very maybe, they are both single, available stewardesses."

"Yes…" Martin hesitated. Not because he didn't get Douglas' meaning, but because he still wasn't sure whether Douglas had truly meant to include him in this plan of his.

Douglas emptied his glass and then turned to face Martin. "Alright then," he said, emptying Martin's glass, "I'll lay the groundwork and when I signal you, you come over."

"Groundwork?"

"Please tell me you do not need me to have a little talk with you," Douglas said sarcastically.

"No, no, but…"

"Trust me," Douglas said. "Unlike some, I have used my uniform to the fullest - always."

Oh I wonder who he meant by that, Martin thought to himself. He glanced over to the two stewardesses, one looked at him, or almost at least, and it made his face turn red again. "Maybe we shouldn't," he said, "Carolyn and Arthur will be…"

"Look, I don't know what your preferences are, but I wasn't planning on including them, either of them," Douglas said.

"It's just…"

"Martin," Douglas said, "you're 33 years old and stuck on a… 'raft'- that's what you called it right? And here we are, about to meet two wonderfully new people, and you're thinking about Carolyn and Arthur?"

"Yes, I mean no! I mean…"

Douglas stood up and clearly wasn't going to be stopped. "I'll signal you," he said.

"Oh… er, yes, alright. So what's the signal?"

"Me saying 'Hey Martin, come over here.'" Douglas said dryly and raised an eyebrow - Martin pretended not to be embarrassed.

"Hello. Hey, hi, good day," Martin said under his breath. "Hey there. No, perhaps not." He was staring into his empty glass, sitting at the bar. Alone. It had been 20 minutes and Martin was fairly sure Douglas had either decided Martin would cramp his style, or had simply forgotten about his existence all together. And still he was practising his hello. After all, he knew himself well enough to know the second he got introduced to either of the lovely red outfits he'd mess it up in yet unimaginable ways.

"Hello, my name's Martin. Hi, I'm Martin Crieff, hey I'm captain Crieff."

"Martin?"

He heard me, was the first thought that went through Martin's head and then he tried to think of a reply to give to Douglas' unavoidable insult and then… he realised it was the signal.

He got up and managed not to knock something over or, quite possibly, hurl himself over the barstool. "Yes, no," Martin said, responding to the signal, followed by, "yes, no."

He walked over to the table where the stewardesses and Douglas were sitting, in exactly the way Martin had hoped to, calm and nonchalant, cool... almost. Then he remembered his overnight bag was still lying by his barstool and he had to turn back to get it. Carrying this in his arms made him look ever so slightly less cool.

"Hey, I'm Captain Martin, er… I mean the captain Crieff, no! I mean I am, but…"

"Ladies, let me introduce my colleague Martin Crieff," Douglas said to end Martin's misery.

"Actually I'm not his colleague perse," Martin said, "I'm the captain." He smiled, a bit too widely to be considered charming.

"Yes we know," Douglas said, then adding under his breath, "the captain Crieff."

Martin bit his lip and smiled again - again too widely - trying to ignore Douglas.

"That's impressive," the red stewardess on Martin's left said. "You can't be much older than thirty, and you're already the captain." She had a pretty smile - very much unlike the smile still plastered on Martin's face - and pretty curly hair. In fact, she was very pretty all around which made Martin very suspicious of her tone towards him.

"Er… yes," he said. "I suppose…" Martin's right hand was fumbling with his left sleeve.

"You must have qualified very young," she said, still sounding very pleasant and making Martin feel all the more uncomfortable for it.

"He certainly started trying very young," Douglas said. Martin glared at him, but the fact that he forgot to stop smiling first, diluted the effect.

Martin sat down next to the pretty stewardess with the pretty smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Her name was Eve. Douglas was talking to Natalie. And the four of them were now getting up and leaving. Though Martin was fairly new at this - well, completely new like an idea that has yet to be formed - he was almost certain the pretty Eve and Natalie were coming to the hotel with them. Finally he was part of the action... invited to the party... in the game. Finally he would win!

Douglas, who was fairly experienced at this - experienced in a way that had left him banned from several airport bars and one food trolley - was thinking of what kind of breakfast the hotel was serving and whether Carolyn would try to make them pay for it themselves.

As they finally reached the other end of airport security - though be it not so awfully hard to get out as it was to get in, it still took them quite a while - Martin let out a strange noise that startled both the stewardesses and made Douglas simply sigh. "What is it now, Martin?" he asked with the voice of a man who had been going through this for the last two years.

"My bag! My overnight bag! I left it at the bar!"

"Of course you did," Douglas said, "and I suppose you now want me to come with you to retrieve it?"

"Well…"

"Despite the fact that it's going to be a terrible hustle getting back in."

"Yes, but…"

"I'll go with you," Eve said brightly. Somehow this only provoked Martin to make another noise that terrified the stewardesses and made Douglas simply sigh. "Smooth operator," Douglas said under his voice, but making sure Martin heard it.

"It's really very nice of you to come with me," Martin said to a smiling Eve. Eve nodded and walked forward, towards a door, while fumbling with her key chord. Only then did Martin see what was hanging on it. A security card. Exactly the kind his 'airline' did not have.

"Er…," he began, wanting to explain, to stop Eve, to tell her he couldn't use the crew entrance, but then, the door swung open. A neatly dressed middle-aged woman passed them and Martin smiled, because now he could go through without having a security pass. Apparently his winning streak was still going strong!

"Very nice this," he said, "going on the fast…" His voice died away as it became very clear to him that his winning streak had just come to a screeching halt, and he would not be able to go through without a security pass. In front of him were odd looking tubes that would seem foreign to most people, but he knew what they were. Iris scanners. You had to swipe your card, then have your eye scanned before you were let through.

Quickly he turned around, but the door had closed and could only be opened by swiping a security pass. Martin turned back around to look at pretty Eve now getting into one of the cylinder shaped spaces. He felt the heat rushing to his face at immense speed and panic slowly creeping over him. This was not the right way to do things. And how was he supposed to get out of here? Without loosing face? He had been on a winning streak! Minutes ago he'd felt like he had luck on his side, finally, but now…

Martin noticed there was a security guard standing in the corner of the room, actually there were three of them, but this one was slightly further away from all the people going in and coming out of the tubes. In a way he himself considered stealthy, but the rest of the world considered ridiculous, Martin moved towards the security guard.

"Hi, I'm Martin Crieff, captain," Martin said. The guard looked at him, but only made a slight gesture towards the tubes.

"Look," Martin said, "you probably hear this everyday, but I've forgotten my card and could you just let me go through?"

The guard raised an eyebrow. "No," he said.

"You can't let me through?"

"No," the guard corrected him, "I do not hear that everyday." Martin repressed the urge to reprimand the guard for the tone he was taking with an airline captain. "And no, I cannot just let you go through."

"But I…"

"You will have to get your card, sir." Somehow the added 'sir' sounded like an insult.

"Listen, I don't have time to get my card, I have to go through now, there's someone waiting for me on the other side of those tubes and there are several someones waiting for me at McDonald's," Martin's voice took on an unpleasant screeching quality.

"Then I would suggest, sir, that you go meet up with the McDonald's people."

Martin looked at the guard, feeling utterly confused and looking it even more so.

"McDonald's is on this side of the tubes, sir." The guard smirked.

Martin felt his blood boil. "I don't think I've been clear enough. I have to get through, and I…"

"There are rules, sir. For your and our safety." The guard had seized to even try to conceal the fact that he was mocking Martin. "I am perfectly aware of what the rules are," Martin said. "But they were designed to protect us from terrorists and criminals, I hardly think they were meant to annoy the crew of…"

"I understand your predicament," the guard said in a way that made it very clear he did in fact understand, but couldn't give a rat's ass about any of it. "But we at … Airport do not make exceptions for airline pilots."

"I am a captain," Martin hissed at the guard.

"Then you should probably hurry with getting your card," the guard calmly replied. "Otherwise the whole plane will be held up because of…"

"I am not flying today, I've just arrived," Martin retorded irratably.

The guard frowned. "And now you want to get back in?" He clearly found this suspicious.

Martin flushed red again. "I forgot my bag."

"I see," the guard said. His tone made it clear that he found this suspicious as well. "And your card?"

"I don't have a card!" Martin let slip. Seeing the look of suspicion on the guards face become even more defined, he quickly added, "Look, we're only a very small group and we don't…"

"A small group? How do you mean?" Martin could see where this was going and it wasn't good.

"I just meant, the people I work with…"

"Right," the guard said and he got this slightly more suspicious and… eager look in his eyes.

"I just want to get in," Martin pleaded.

"I see," the guard said and Martin was sure he saw him give some kind of sign to the other two guards in the room. And he could swear the one to his left was now approaching him.

"I just want to get in!" Martin pleaded. The two guards were now both approaching him, while the guard in front of him was reaching for something.

"I am a captain!" Martin yelped, realising this was going to end very badly for him - again. "I am captain Crieff! I'm the captain!"

"It's blue!" Arthur's face lit up as he opened the small plastic bag that had come with his happy meal.

Carolyn sighed. She had long ago accepted that her son was… well, very much her child, and would always be her child. While Arthur was manically driving the miniature car around the small table they occupied, Carolyn got distracted by a distant noise. It was a rumbling sound that soon became distinguishable as a human voice.

It didn't take her long to figure out what it was saying and when she did, all she could do was sigh again. Sometimes she wished she lived in a world where she would've considered this next thought of hers insanity, but in this world it was very clearly the truth.

And so she wasn't even surprised in the least when in a flash of uniforms and one very red face, she saw one of her employees being dragged away by three security guards. As the group passed, Carolyn heard it again, "I'm the captain! I am the captain!"

She sighed and resumed eating her French fries. Arthur who only now seemed slightly disturbed by what had been happening around him, looked up. "What was that?" he asked in a mix of enthusiasm and curiosity.

"That," Carolyn said, "was our captain."

Before Arthur could respond - most likely with "Who do you mean?" another group of security guards rushed by. Carolyn could hear one of them saying, "… baggage found left unattended. Overnight bag at the red bar."

She sighed, sometimes she wished she lived in a world where she wasn't completely certain they were talking about Martin's bag. So far for acting as a professional company, she thought to herself.

Carolyn's cell phone went off. Douglas, the little screen said. She put the cell phone away. "Something wrong?" Arthur asked.

"Not at all," Carolyn said.

"But don't you have to pick up?" Arthur asked with the kind of innocence you'd only expect from a 3-year old.

"Not at all," Carolyn said.

"But…," Arthur said, now becoming aware of the fact that he was missing something vital, "it could be important."

"Yes," Carolyn answered, "but not more important than Martin learning the meaning of the words cavity and search."

Arthur stared blankly at his mother.

"That, my heart, is vitally important to the survival of our company," she said, while her cell phone went off again.


End file.
